


Voices

by Arfang_Red



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-19
Updated: 2010-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-07 01:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arfang_Red/pseuds/Arfang_Red
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Riddle dreams about a young man with green eyes meanwhile, in another world, something is about to happen that will affect both of their worlds. New evil will come, far greater than any other evil that swept the Wizarding World, will they make it? Will help be extended?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Roaring Winds

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, its characters and merchandise. No profit has been made for this fan-made work.
> 
> Beta credits: Liberal Artisan (my life savior). All other mistakes are mine.

CHAPTER ONE – Roaring Wind

_It was dank. The gale was blowing fiercely, and a man in dark robes was shouting against the roar of the wind._

_"DON’T LET GO!" He yelled as he held on to the other’s pale, thin wrist. He was saving a young man from falling in a seemingly endless void. The young man was already slipping that he could feel the markings on his skin. But he just wanted to hold on...not to let the young man go._

_"No! Please...save yourself!" The young man screamed back._

_The man held on as hard as he could, almost broke the other’s wrist in the process, and he could feel his own wrist snapping from the weight of the said young man._

_But the fates were cruel, and the young man fell on the dark, endless void. Screaming._

"NO!" The said man bolted up from his bed, screaming. He wildly looked around and found out he was still in his room, the same green and silver room. He buried his face in his palms, and realized he was sweating profusely. He got up, and dragged himself to the bathroom.

Then he saw himself in the mirror. His reflection told he’d had dark rings below his eyes. His hair was wayward as if blown by wind, and he realized that his nails were caked by dried mud. His robes were tattered at the hemline as if he’d had ran into a forest, and his robes were snagged by tree branches and were muddy also as if he was lying on the ground like the one in his dream.

He took the soiled sleeping robe off with a wave of his wand, and it burst into flames. He stepped into his huge bubble bath, letting all the dirt, mud and surprisingly leaves be washed away. His dreams had begun for about a year now and it was always like this, always with that young man. He didn't know why he didn't want him to die and why every after dreaming, he would wake up dirty or disheveled, as if it was real.

And he had a hunch: It was real.

He’d had drank several potions, Dreamless Sleep Potions and Calming Draughts, before he slept to keep the nightmares away but the said potions did never work simply because it wasn't a dream. It was real.

His thoughts wandered back to the young man: he wore those vividly brilliant, green eyes like the rarest emeralds. It was glowing. And his hair was as black as night, cascading on his broad shoulders. He was a beautiful young man and no mortal can be compared to his beauty. It was enchanting, and very ethereal. He knew that that young man didn't exist. Such beauty doesn't exist in this wretched world. He knew.

Oh he just knew.

After thoroughly washing up, he dressed up in a loose black silk robe with a black shirt, black dragon skin pants and metal boots. He tucked his wand in his sleeve, and swept away from his room to downstairs, ready to set a brief meeting with his followers.

"Milord..." A pudgy man with a rat-like face bowed low as he saw him. The latter stopped and faced him.

"Wormtail, bare your arm to me." The man ordered, his voice being silky, as though it was caressing but has a cold edge on it.

Wormtail kneeled on the ground as he bore his arms to the man before him. The man took out his wand and pressed in on the mark on Wormtail’s arm: It was a skull, and on the mouth of the skull, a snake was curled in a number eight shape. It was the shape of eternity. Wormtail winced in pain as sweat began to form on his brow.

Cracks of apparition filled their hall. The man that was sitting on a throne that was on a dais was no more. Now, that man was looking some sort of hybrid, a cross of human and snake. His crimson eyes became slits, and his pale skin became scaly and glossy. The dark hair on his head was no more, instead it was bare. It was a hideous sight. Such was the sight that will haunt those caught under its gaze, and in their nightmares. One that made its disciples shiver in fright.

The meeting went well. He handed a few orders and reports. And he found a shocking news, that Harry Potter, his prophesized vanquisher, was reported to be lost. One day, he was at the Hogwarts grounds and next he vanished just like that. The Light faction thought that his faction is to be blamed. They thought that he, Lord Voldemort, caught him and held him hostage. But he didn't. Whoever had Harry Potter should make sure he won't find them for he will personally finish them.  
Harry Potter is his to kill.


	2. Speared Through My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, its characters and merchandise. No profit has been made for this fan-made work.
> 
> Beta Credits: Liberal Artisan (All existing mistakes are mine)

CHAPTER TWO – Speared Through My Heart

_Spears._

_There were a lot of spears that were driven against a cannon and it pointed towards a young man, bound and gagged on a post, white robes caked with mud and blood._

_The onlooker was horrified by the sight. Such cruel, cruel things this young man always had to suffer. If he was the one to persecute this young man, he would just do it with a killing curse: No pain, no torture. And then he saw the young man's face; he was neither crying out for help nor looking scared. Sheer determination was what astounded him. He should be a Gryffindor. Pure courage, and yet bravery is closely knitted to foolishness._

_Tom believed that the young man is reckless; being brave and all in that context when in fact he was going to die. He should ask help, not face those deathly sharp stakes with eyes glinting with sheer determination, as though he is coaxing death to go to him._

_Tom heard an audible twang and the spears were fired to the bound, young man. Stupidly, Tom felt the moment that he was at the muggle trials, in which wizards and witches are speared or burned alive. He fumbled for his wand to cast a shield around the young man, but found none. He almost screamed in rage and frustration. He can't afford to see this young man die again!_

_He was close into flinging himself to shield the young man in his dreams, but before he could even make up his mind and do just that, the young man who was bound and gagged was suddenly pierced by a lot of spears. His immaculate white robe was drenched in his own spouting blood._

_The scent of blood hung thickly in the atmosphere and Tom rushed to the young man's side to loosen his binds. The young man fell limped in his arms._

_"Why –" The young man wheezed. It was a wet sort of wheeze as if he had liquid stuck in his throat. "Why d..do y..you keep o-on coming here?" The young man struggled to speak._

_"Hush, you are weak." Tom said as soothingly as he can. They were at the ground now, and Tom now held the broken and bloodied body in his arms. It was now cleared of spears, but blood was freely flowing. "What did you do to deserve all of this?" he asked quietly, really curious. And then he had the abrupt but certain impulse on finding out who did it to the young man so that he could kill them as painful, and as messy as they did to this young man._

_"This is my fate." The young man said with a resigned sigh. "There is no escape, none."_

_Tom tried to stop the bleeding of the young man's wounds by tearing his own robes, and tying the young man's bleeding cuts. The young man grimaced and groaned in pain._

_"S-stop, I am dying." The young man said hoarsely. "T-thank you..." The young man took a long shuddering breath and tersely limped in Tom's arms._

Tom bolted upright, again from slumber. It was already dawn. The young flickers of light were starting to crack through the small spaces in his window, and up close, the sky was already tinged pink and orange – a sign of another new morning. There was a knock on his door. He staggered, and opened it. It was Severus with Lucius behind his back.

Lucius’ mercury eyes widened as he saw the appearance of their Lord: weary, disheveled, and drenched in blood. Such weakness he had never seen on their Lord, but what shocked him most was his bloodied robes and arms, fresh crimson liquid still wet and dripping free.  
Severus looked shocked as well due to the bloodied robes and he took a quick glance in his Lord's room, but saw no dead person. Severus deduced it was from those dreams. Again.

"It's not my blood. It's from the dream." Tom said, in somewhat strained voice, confirming the thoughts of the other two. "He died in my arms. How many times should he die in my arms?" Tom said in a somewhat quiet but agonized voice that the other two looked taken aback, but chose to pretend not to notice.

"My Lord, here is the potion so you can sleep again." Severus said, voice betraying the emotions that was not on his face: Concern.

Tom nodded, and dismissed his two Death Eaters.

He cleaned himself and drank the cool liquid, and fell asleep.


	3. Fallen Saviour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, its characters or merchandise. No profit was made for this fan-made work.
> 
> Beta Credit: Liberal Artisan

CHAPTER THREE – Fallen Saviour

The Hogwarts' castle was in a flurry of activity. Classes were still going on, but it wasn't classes that kept the ancient castle in bustle. It was because of one Harry Potter. One would think that it is ridiculous that one boy could cause an utter riot in that castle, but Harry Potter was no ordinary boy.

15-year-old Harry Potter was a fifth year student in Hogwarts, Seeker in the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and in fact the youngest Seeker in a century but this is not the reason. Harry Potter is the heralded Savior of the Light faction. He was the one that was prophesized to vanquish the Dark Lord Voldemort, but no one knew of this prophecy bar three people: one Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and the informal Lord of Light, one Harry Potter, the so-called "Savior" of Light and one Sybil Trelawney, the Divinations professor and the creator of the prophecy. But this Sybil Trelawney doesn't even remember this so-called prophecy.

In the Headmaster's office of this ancient castle, people of different occupations but have the same strong beliefs in the tenets of the Light have gathered. The common thing in these people is that they all have the same expressions, ranging from horrified to worried expressions, since they have lost Harry Potter, and without him the Light would be screwed up, royally and totally screwed up.

"Albus! Why in Merlin's name did Harry disappear on the grounds? Hogwarts was supposed to be impenetrable, but what happened? Harry must have been abducted by You-Know-Who!" A round red-head in the name of Molly Weasley shrieked hysterically.

"Now, now Molly, we are not sure yet that Harry is with Voldemort –” At the sound of the Dark Lord’s name, simultaneous shudders and flinches came from the listeners. "–maybe he is just here around the castle or maybe in the forest." Dumbledore said in a calming tone.

"But Albus, it has been a week already! Hagrid said that the forest is clear of any signs of Harry. Even the centaurs informed us that they haven't seen him or found him. He is not in the castle either. He can't hide in the castle for one week!" Arthur Weasley, the husband of Molly Weasley, informed the Headmaster who was sitting behind his desk.

"I assigned Dobby and other house-elves to find Mr. Potter last week. But no, Mr. Potter is not on the Hogwarts grounds." Minerva McGonagall, the Transfiguration Professor, also said with a hint of distress.

After a week, the calm composure of the Headmaster started to wear off and the Headmaster only have one last straw. His spy, Severus Snape, the Potions Master of Hogwarts and a Death Eater of Lord Voldemort.

Speaking of Severus Snape, he entered the Headmaster's office still in his Death Eater regalia, black robes and a gold mask in one hand, he swept his obsidian eyes around the room and rested it on the Headmaster who was now stroking his beard. The headmaster looked up, dim blue orbs met obsidian black.

"Severus, do you have any news on Mr. Potter on the Dark side?" The Headmaster asked in an expectant but weary tone.

Now, Severus felt uncomfortable because he has had sworn on his magic to protect the Potter boy. Even he personally doesn't like the boy. He was worried, for if he failed to protect the boy, his magic will be stripped from him, and turned on him.

"I am afraid, Headmaster, that even the Dark Lord doesn't know where Mr. Potter is. He was furious that the boy disappeared since he believed he should be the one to kill he boy. He, in fact, strongly ordered us, his Death Eaters and the supporters of the Dark Order that no one should touch the boy if we see him or..." Here Severus shivered slightly, but continued. "He will personally punish whoever violates his order, severely."

After this report of Severus Snape, a brusque uproar descended in the Headmaster’s office, cries of despair from the Weasley Matriarch, and Minerva Mcgonagall held her hand on her own chest as if to pacify herself.

"It is imperative that we find Mr. Potter. Any news on both Dark Order to the Ministry, please notify the Order." Dumbledore said suddenly. "Remus," He said as he turned his dimming blue eyes to the despairing werewolf. "Tell the friends of Mr. Potter about this turn of events." The werewolf nodded sadly and spun away to the office.

__

* * *

_I solemnly swear I am up to no good._

* * *

The man was sitting in his study having reverted back to his natural form. Gone was the serpentine hybrid and replaced by tousled silky black hair, smooth pale skin, and its sickly body was back to its once toned muscle body but still, the unnerving crimson orbs was still there.

The man, Lord Voldemort or Tom Marvolo Riddle, was contemplating over a report given by one of his followers. He was considering about the Potter brat and their connection. Somehow he can't feel the brat anymore. Normally, he can feel a plethora of emotions from the boy and somehow, he realized, they were never positive. It was always anger, hate, irritation, and frustration. The brat only felt positive feelings rarely, even almost never. The thoughts of the brat that were normally broadcasted loudly in their mysterious link were lost. On the first week, it was getting very weak and was getting weaker by the passing time but now, what was left of that link was a void.

Lord Voldemort set the report down and concentrated on their link. He closed his eyes, and as he concentrated, his brows furrowed deeply. He delved deeper on their link, deeper than he would have ever gone but as he dug deeper, something snapped aloud. And Lord Voldemort knew that his connection with Harry Potter was severed into nothingness. He believed that Harry Potter died that's why he is missing for the whole week. Harry Potter is not missing. He is dead.

Who dared to kill him?


	4. Fiery Resolve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters or merchandise. No profit has been made for this work.
> 
> Beta credits: Liberal Artisan (ffnet) (All other mistakes found are mine.)

CHAPTER FOUR – Fiery Resolve

_Fire._

_Fire was everywhere. The soot from the fire was very thick around the surroundings that one can practically taste it, bitter and grainy. The same onlooker was having his hard time breathing and he was currently looking for someone. He need to find that someone, but that someone was nowhere to be found. A feeling bloomed inside him for the first time. The Dark Lord Voldemort felt panic and it was building inside him, and he was running around the burning site as far as his legs can bring him, finding that someone._

_A blood-curling scream echoed somewhere in the burning site._

_Eyes wild with panic, he ran towards the source of the sound, and rushed towards the same young man. The young man was surrounded by fire, as if the fire is alive and was ready to devour him._

_He tried to pull the young man away._

_"NO! GO AWAY!" The young man yelled hoarsely as he pushed Lord Voldemort away._

_"No! I am not going to leave you!" Lord Voldemort yelled back._

_"J-just leave me!...SAVE YOURSELF!" The young man said, his brilliant emerald eyes dimming almost filling with tears. And Lord Voldemort felt his heart was going to break in seeing this beautiful young man in front of him tearing. He brushed the tear from those pale cheeks and held him close to his chest, hoping he can shield him from the crackling fire._

_"No. Listen to me! I won't leave you. I'd rather die than leave you!" Lord Voldemort said. He wasn't controlling his own mouth now. The words just tumbled up his mouth speaking out his innermost thoughts._

_"Please..." The young man's hoarse voice turned low and pleading. "S-save yourself. You c-can't do anything!"_

_But Lord Voldemort merely shook his head and held him closer and tighter, more like shielding the young man._

_But as though the fires were alive all this time, the young man was suddenly engulfed by the inferno and once again Lord Voldemort tried to reach out but all he heard was another agonizing scream._

"NO!" Lord Voldemort bolted upright again from his silken bed, overly trembling. Again he witnessed the young man die. What is this young man doing to him? Why does he felt insurmountable sadness, loss, and guilt? He has killed thousands, and a thousand more he shall kill, for Merlin's sake! But why did he felt guilt for failing in protecting that young man?

Lord Voldemort went to his bathroom shakily. He saw himself in the mirror. The reflection showed he was covered in soot and his hair was scorched. His robes were burned at several places. His face was covered in soot but...surprisingly there were tear tracks on his face.

Were those dreams really real? He can still feel the weight of the young man in his arms! These dreams were becoming escalating in a maddening state, and this has to stop.

With a growl, he took off his robes and with a swift wave of his hand. It burned and he remembered for the briefest moments about the young man that was burned alive and he shivered, remembering those glowing emerald eyes dimming.

He slid down to his bubble bath and contemplated on many things.

First was Harry Potter, who was proclaimed dead by the Ministry of Magic after three months of being lost. His spies reported that there was a charred body washed away in the lake of Hogwarts two weeks after the Potter boy was reported missing. The body was beyond recognition and the only thing that served as identification was his round glasses and Gryffindor robes. Harry Potter was interred and his funeral was attended by thousands and the Dark Order celebrated at the death of the champion of Light. It was six months since Harry Potter, the Savior and Champion of the Light was declared dead and for that, the Wizarding Britain is still in hopes of finding another savior, from the looming clutches of the Dark.

Second was the young man that had had haunted his dreams for almost two years now, the green-eyed young man. The young man in his dream always died; him always failing to save him. It was always like that, the young man ends up dying horribly with a scream. Those dreams felt so real. He always woke up dirty, wet, or scorched. It was always like that. What do those dreams mean?

Lord Voldemort had enough of contemplations so he got up, got dressed, and went back to his routine. He needed to move, now that no prophesized Savior will save the pathetic excuse for the Light.


	5. Et tu Brute?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, its characters and merchandise. No profit is made with this work.
> 
> Beta Credits: Liberal Artisan (ffnet)

CHAPTER FIVE – Et tu, Brute?

A young woman with hazel brown, bushy hair now softly curling around and framing her heart shape face and a gangly-looking young man with red hair and freckles sprinkled on his pale face was huddled on a certain magical room on the enormous castle of Hogwarts. The said young woman with hazel brown hair in the name of Hermione Granger and the young man with red hair in the name of Ronald Weasley were weeping. It has been eight months since their best friend, Harry Potter, was declared dead.

The young man, Ronald or Ron Weasley, admits to himself that at first, he befriended Harry Potter because of his fame, but even now, he can still say that he still befriends Harry Potter because of his popularity and fame. But now Harry Potter was dead, he has no more popularity. No more fame. Why did he die? Was Harry supposed to kill the Dark Lord? Why did he leave them? How dare him!

And by these thoughts, he curled his fist and shed his crocodile tears.

The young woman, Hermione Granger, was devastated. Harry was her best friend. He was one of the people that accepted her fully amidst her status in a world in which blood deems the level of a person. Hermione thought it was her fault why Harry died, and kept on blaming herself for it. If she didn't leave him wandering around, he wouldn’t have died. And Hermione was no fool; she knew all the petty reasons on why Ron Weasley befriended her best friend. The fame that entails the name Harry Potter was what the redhead after for and now he cried as if he truly was devastated about Harry's death!

But Hermione can't stand the acts of Ronald anymore.

"Stop it." Hermione snapped coldly.

Ron snapped his head towards Hermione. She was standing in front of him. Her hair was covering her face which he was sure was covered with excessive tears. Ron's brows furrowed as looked at Hermione questioningly.

"I know, Ronald. All of this friendship with Harry is an act. Why Ronald? Why will you sink yourself this low? For popularity? For fame?" Hermione snorted derisively. "How LOW of you Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

"N-no! H-Herm, Harry is my friend! He is my best mate!" Ron defended himself. Lying to himself again, and now to Hermione, that he was really friends with Harry.

Hermione uttered a dark, cold laugh. Ron shivered as he heard the laugh that echoed insanity.

"Best MATE?" Hermione shrieked. "Where were you when Harry was mourning from Sirius death? Where were you when he needed someone to talk to? You were not there RON! You were hiding! Why? Because you don't know how to comfort someone you really don't really care for?" Hermione yelled. "He is your best mate? What a best mate you are!" Hermione said sarcastically.

"Now listen here, Hermione –."

"NO YOU LISTEN!" Hermione cut sharply. "Harry knew you, he knew you longer than me! But he tolerated your petty acts! He tolerated you, Ron! I don't know why but he did, but look at yourself! Acting crocodile face until the end! What do you think now, Ron?" Hermione said nastily, hazel orbs glinting in the darkness.

"You think YOU will be the Savior of Light when Harry dies? You think you will be the next ‘boy-who-lived’?" Hermione asked scathingly and she laughed a high pitch intonation. "NO, for one thing, YOU WON’T! And you will never be!" Hermione screamed as she drew a wand. It was not her wand. It was an extra wand.

Ron cowered and shrunk on a corner of the Room of Requirement, Hermione had lost it.

She finally lost it.

Harry's death made her insane. Harry, Harry, Harry. It was always Harry! Why is it always Harry?

"H-Hermione!" Ron yelled as the wand pointed across his chest. "Harry. IT IS ALWAYS HARRY! Why always him? Don't you see me? I am ALWAYS on his shadow, never moving forward! You were supposed to be siding with me, Hermione! IT WAS ORDERED BY PROFESSOR DUMBLEDORE!" Ron screamed, seething with anger.

"Harry is MY FRIEND!" Hermione screamed. "I won't exchange him for MONEY, Ron! Harry was right: Professor Dumbledore is WORST THAN VOLDEMORT!" Hermione screamed as Ron flinched.

"YOU ARE MAD!" Ron yelled back. "How dare you compare Professor Dumbledore to You-Know-Who? He is better than that monster!"

"Shut up, Ron. Just please, shut up." Hermione commanded coldly as she raised the wand.

"What Hermione? Are you going to practice your dark curses with me, you Death Eater!" Ron spat venomously, but he continued still in the venomous tone. "Look at you, Hermione, tainted by Harry Potter," Ron spat the name ‘Harry Potter’ as if it was a disease. "Practicing Dark Arts for equality? Bah! Dark Arts should be banned!" he spat at the ground. "The wards will alert Professor Dumbledore about you practicing your Dark Arts now!" Ron proclaimed gleefully as he watched Hermione's reaction but to his surprise, the devastated face of Hermione lit up, and an insane expression took over her face.

"Tut-tut, Ronald." Hermione chided as she tapped her wand on Ron's chin since Ron was kneeling before her. "We are at the Room of Requirement, remember? I asked the room to give me time and create a veil that will bypass the wards..." Hermione smiled an insane smile. "And besides...the castle wants to feel your demise also Ronald, for betraying Harry."

In these words, Ron panicked and tried to fumble for his wand but Hermione tut-ted once again.

"Looking for this, Ronald?" Hermione purred as she held up a willow wand wiggling it. "You are not observant enough...’Constant Vigilance’ as Harry said..." Hermione said as her expression went into a dreamy state, and snapped almost immediately back to reality. "I think it ends here now."

She smiled genuinely. Gently.

But still, it echoed insanity like the late Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione shot a silent Incarcerous to Ron, with a crazy expression, and circled him like a predator that she already is.

"Hmm... What shall I practice first? Did you know that we have not tested curses to actual people Ron? Harry and I don't like the idea of actually using it against people...but considering it’s you..." Her voice drifted.

Ron felt this queasy feeling in his gut. Hermione was really going to mean it. Hermione went bad because of Harry...

This is not the sweet, smart girl she had had always liked. This is a skilled duel master, lethal in stance and in ready position to kill, almost an Auror. Whatever she and Harry did, it was really paying off.

"Aha!" Hermione blurted out, suddenly in glee. "You'll like this Ron. Penetrabilis!" Hermione intoned as she flicked her wand to Ron.

Ron felt like millions of needles pierced his skin, he screamed and writhed in pain, pinpricks of blood flowed as if he was punctured deeper than needed.

"Like it? It is called Piercing Curse...more creative than Cruciatus. Hmm? Be honoured, Ron. You are my first test subject." Hermione purred.

"Who are you and where is Hermione! You are a monster!" Ron gasped out.

Hermione gave another chilling laugh. "Monster? Let me show what kind of a monster I am. I hate traitors. Crucio!" Hermione yelled.

Ron felt the excruciating and unbearable pain, and bit his lip so that the monster before him won’t have the pleasure of hearing him scream the pain. This went on for a while until blood spurt and he knew he can’t take it anymore. He screamed and thrashed on the floor, and the warm blood began gurgling the noises. Warm scent of blood wafted around the room, those that come from his nose and mouth. His writhing bounded body covered with thick red blood.

"The blood of a traitor. This is a lovely little art, Ron." Hermione commented off-handedly as she lifted the curse off after 5 minutes.

"H-Have you turned Dark, Hermione? D-Do you have that Snake as your master?" Ron barked back as nastily as he could even in his weekend state.

"Hmm. Nope. Not for now, though I personally don't like his plans to eradicate muggle-borns, but at least he doesn't move his followers like chess pieces, like your sweet old fool, Dumbledore. He won't sacrifice one life to get closer to his goal." Hermione explained as if talking to an idiot.

Ron gaped and shook his head feebly as if this were a dream.

Hermione was willing to ally with You-Know-Who just to prove points.

"Oh, Ron...our little experiment is up. Pity I can't play with you anymore." Hermione said with a mock expression of disappointment in her pretty face. "And for my final present..." Hermione said with a dramatic flourish "Citatio Bestia! Acromantula!" and a giant Acromantula erupted from her wand.

"Do kill that red head, and satisfy yourself." Hermione commanded the beast with Ron screaming with fright in the background and she tapped her wand against herself and melted into a glamoured person she climbed out of the entrance of the ROR and walked away, leaving Ron and the giant Acromantula.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know! I know, Hermione really went nutty. I think I forgot to mention that this has Dumbledore!bashing, some Weasleys!bashing... I know its cliche, but I'll try to make it work.

**Author's Note:**

> The characters are quite OOC since it is an AU setting. This fanfic is the very first I have written for Harry Potter and this was written two years ago. It is still on-going though slow-paced due to other works on-going and RL keeps going in.


End file.
